


Letters to Larry

by embracethepayne



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, larry - Freeform, larry au, larry stylinson - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-26
Updated: 2015-07-27
Packaged: 2018-04-06 04:55:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4208700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/embracethepayne/pseuds/embracethepayne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They went from being fake friends, to fake lovers.</p><p> </p><p>It's been known that gay celebrities often obtain beards to conceal their sexuality. But it's rare that straight celebrities obtain beards to create a fake sexuality.</p><p>For Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson, they're taking the rare road.</p><p>Forced into working together on and off camera, they realize that friendship isn't the only thing they'll need to fake in order to make the world happy.</p><p>They also realize that there's one thing they'll never be able to pretend: Love.</p><p> </p><p>A Larry AU about drinking too much, learning how to act, and the power of the fans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Walls.

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is my first fan-fic on this site. Hope it goes well! x

“Explain your relationship with Louis Tomlinson.”  
  
“My relationship with him?” I let out a puff of pondering breath and let my eyes wander up to the ceiling. “Well, he's my co-star. We get along well and I enjoy working with him. I'm not sure what else you'd want me to say about him, really.”  
  
“Your viewers tend to look more into that 'work' relationship you have with him, though,” Eric Gordon pointed out, and the way he said  _work_ made my jaw tighten _._ “I'm sure you've become aware of this after five years of knowing the lad.”  
  
“Larry, of course.” I gave a nod. “It's because Louis and I do have a real friendship off the show, and we appear strangely close both off and on the show. Our viewers have just looked more into our relationship, and they believe that if Louis and I were gay, we'd be perfect for each other.”  
  
“Would you not agree?”  
  
My eyebrow rose, almost in a challenging manner. “Well,” I said, trying to answer these questions in the most professional way possible, “Louis is a great catch, and I think any woman or man, including myself, would be quite lucky to get a shot at that. But so it remains, neither of us are gay, nor in a relationship with each other.”  
  
The interviewer seemed to take a moment to accept my answer, then moved on to ask about the actual show.  
  
“You guys are currently filming the next season of  _Waiting Game_ , correct?” I nodded at the question. “What should viewers expect to see on the new season?”  
  
I thought about it for a moment, trying to remember the answer he was supposed to give. “Well, to be completely honest, I haven't looked over the scripts for most of the episodes,” I said, though that wasn't what I was supposed to say. “But from what I've seen, we're going to keep the humor strong. I think people always begin to watch the show, thinking that it's going to be serious drama, when it's really just ironic, funny drama. And I think we're going to keep that going this season. I know there should be some relationship drama, especially between Carter and Janelle.”  
  
“Carter” was my character, a cocky young man who has no clue what he's doing with his life, and never seizes an opportunity to get into trouble. I thought that we fit together well.  
  
“Are we finally going to see something happen between them?” Eric said with a cheeky grin.  
  
“God, I hope so. Carter needs to get some already.”  
  
The man sitting across from me on a green sofa tilted his head back and gave a laugh that was equally fake as it was real. I laughed along lightly for show.  
  
“All right,” the interviewer said when he sobered. “Well, is there anything else you would like to say about the show?”  
  
I just shrugged. “Just that this is going to be a good season and everyone is very excited for it.”  
  
Then it was over. Eric stopped the recording on his phone and someone came to take a photo of us sitting together. I headed back to my trailer, seeing Louis Tomlinson on my way out.  
  
There was only one thing anyone ever really needed to know about Louis Tomlinson: He was the kind of person you could never mind staring at. He might mind you looking at him, but it wouldn't matter to you. You just wanted to stare at him. It wasn't an attraction thing, though Louis Tomlinson was not an ugly man. It was more of the way... he looked. Just how he acted, how he made faces at certain things, how he could never hide his true emotion. Believe it or not, it's hard to find people like that because everyone has a wall. My wall was my best friend. But Louis's—it was practically nonexistent. If the lad was sad, you knew it. If he was pissed the fuck off, you knew it. If he had just had the best orgasm of his life, you would—without a doubt—see it on his face.  
  
He didn't act like that for attention. He just didn't give a fuck about walls and hiding what went on his life, at least not on his face. That was something Harry both admired and hated. Admired because Louis was an easy person to talk to for that reason. Hated because for some damned reason, the fact that he didn't hide his emotions made him a fantastic actor. I assumed it was because when Louis was in character, he was really  _in character._  He just felt what his character felt, and he showed it.  
  
And for that, I didn't like that quality about Louis all that much.  
  
Louis looked kind of happy today, smiling at me when we walked past each other, but there was a slight edge to him that I picked up on. I said nothing, though, but returned the gesture.  
  
I turned my phone back on when I got to the trailer that read "Harry Styles" on the door, and I saw the group message from Jo that had been sent to other cast members saying to be at XIR later tonight. I thought about it for a moment.  
  
XIR was always a fun hang out. It was a great club here in London where the cast often went after work. I always had fun there, and getting shit-faced did sound appealing for the night. Had I not woken up the way I had this morning, I probably would have thought differently of the idea.  
  
Because that morning, I'd woken up with someone next to me, and I hadn't been hung over.  
  
Though it seemed like I should have been hung over because I hardly remembered how that person had winded up in my bed, sleeping with me. I knew sex had been involved; it always was. But that was usually it. The only time it would go further was if I was too tired or too drunk to kick them out. It's not like it was a usual thing, though. I would never let myself breach manwhorism. But simply, I had a sex drive, and I needed to sate my needs sometimes. I only sought out for a companion for the night when I was in dire need of sex because I was no longer in a relationship where sex was constant.  
  
But this morning was the first time I'd woken up next to woman when neither of us were so fucking hung over, we didn't remember the sex, in a long fucking time. I did remember the sex. I remembered it being satisfying and laced with desire. But I couldn't remember why she was there. There must have been a point during the night where I either called her over, or she came over on her own. I remembered a small bit of chatter, then getting right to business. But I couldn't remember if I asked her to stay the night, or if we had fallen asleep before we could discuss the matter.  
  
Either way, I wasn't happy about it, and a drink or ten sounded perfect at the moment.

* * *

XIR was pretty hectic tonight, though when was it not hectic?

  
It was a hot club, I had come to realize. I always thought places like this were a good place to get drunk, at least for me. It would make it harder for people to see me act like a complete idiot.  
  
I spotted Jo, Clara, Nick, Mil, and Lydia at a V.I.P booth off to the corner of the room, glasses already collecting over the surface of the round table. When I came to join them, they “greeted” me with obnoxious and incoherent shouts, clearly already feeling some sort of buzz. They made room for me at the end, and I sat next to Lydia, a beautiful brunette that I, admittedly, had shagged once.  
  
It was ages ago, though.  
  
“This is all you invited? I thought I saw more contacts in the group chat,” I said as I examined them.  
  
“Nah,” Jo said, passing me a shot to start off with. I took it graciously and waited for Jo to finish talking to toss it back. “I invited more. Though I have no clue who's all actually coming.”  
  
I barely nodded, feeling the burn of the alcohol find its way down my raw throat and I looked down to hide the face I was making. A moment later, I took another.  
  
Twenty minutes in, I was proud to say I was on the road to being wasted.  
  
A few other cast members had shown up not too long after I had. I was glad to see that Niall Horan was one of those people, because he was definitely the kind of person you wanted to get drunk with. Louis had also shown up, and I noticed that Louis had only wanted one beer, and after ten minutes, he hadn't drank half of it.  
  
I took my eyes off of the mystery to throw back my last shot of bourbon. That seemed about all I needed then, and I hopped up from the booth.  
  
“Which one of you fine ladies should I ask to dance?” I asked over the music.  
  
The women at the table, at least most of them (Clara just scoffed), looked up at me. Mil, the blonde with smooth skin and sweet eyes, held out her hand.  
  
“Not that I'm volunteering, but I was going to go dance anyway,” she said as I obliged, taking her hand as she stood up. I guided her out of the booth and down the steps to the main floor which was just a sea of dancing bodies. We found a spot we could squeeze into, and without even having to think about it, our bodies were moving along to the beat of the music.  
  
A song by Rihanna was playing, and it was one you could really move to. (Plus I liked the lyrics:  _Bitch better have my money._ ) Mil was moving along to the music perfectly, her hips swaying in a smooth motion, side to side, and her hands danced with mine as we moved together. Our heads dipped around each other and we let the music and alcohol take control.  
  
It wasn't until the song changed and moved onto another that one of us seemed to have something on our minds.  
  
“You should talk to Lou,” she said, looking up at me as we continued to sway together.  
  
I frowned. “Why?”  
  
“Well, aren't you his best friend?”  
  
“Love,” I said, trying not to laugh, “I'm not even sure if I would go as far as to say we were  _friends._ ”  
  
Mil just rolled her hazel eyes. “You two sure do act like friends,” she pointed out.  
  
“Exactly. We  _act_  like friends.”  
  
“You should still talk to him.”  
  
I took a step back so I could see her better. “What, is something wrong with him? Did his puppy die?” I said without even trying to sound nice.  
  
“You know what I'm talking about,” she said exasperatedly, a sigh following. “Talk to him. Tonight.”  
  
“Fine,” I gave in. “I'll talk to him.”  
  
So that's what I went to do. We danced for one more song, then I went off to find Louis and his fucking emotions. On my way, I was delighted (not really) to see a couple in the crowd taking “dancing” to a completely different level. It was all unclear, with all the oblivious drunks around them, and the lighting, but I was eighty-seven percent sure I was seeing a young guy holding up a girl by her thighs as she had her legs wrapped around his waist, her hands in his hair, and her body was moving up and down. It was pretty ugly, rather than sexy, and I hurried to look away before I threw up everything I had drank.  
  
After going on a hunt for the bastard, I spotted Louis at the bar, his blue eyes off towards something at the other side of the bar. When I grew closer, I saw what was in Louis's line of vision. A small thing with not so small  _things_ , her breasts popping out of her tight dress perfectly, her fingers flirting sweetly with the sliver necklace that led conveniently down her chest. A man with high cheekbones that were outlined against the bright lights, and had that sort of  _dangerous_  look to him was standing with the girl, though he didn't seem very interested in her.  
  
“You know, most girls rather have you  _talk_ to them, rather than stalk them from across the bar,” I said in Louis's ear when I approached his backside.  
  
The shorter man jumped and stood up straight as he turned around cautiously. He sighed when he realized it was only me, but his cheeks turned pink.  
  
“W-what?” Louis said.  
  
“That girl you're gawking at. You should probably talk to her before she gets freaked out.”  
  
Louis's head turned back around and he glanced off where he had been before, still seeming confused. I was kind of confused, too, so I looked at the girl again. It was easy to assume that she was who Louis had been stalking, but when my eyes drifted over to the right a bit, and I saw the dangerous eyes of the man flicker in outdirection, I realized I may have been wrong, and I decided to drop it completely.  
  
“So,” I said, giving Louis a light pat on the back, which made him turn his attention the other way, “I was told you needed someone to talk to.”  
  
Louis frowned and took a seat on the stool he stood over, and I joined him on the stool next to him. “I never told anyone I needed to talk to someone,” he said, though he didn't deny he indeed needed to talk to someone.  
  
“Well, you've been off all day, and people got concerned.” I was careful not to make it sound like I was one of those people.  
  
“You mean Mileena,” Louis corrected.  
  
“Yeah.” I gave a shrug. “Persistent lil' thing forced me over here.”  
  
“Well, Harry, I appreciate your overwhelming concern,” Louis said sarcastically, providing the face to fit with his tone, “but you don't need to come talk to me if you don't want to.”  
  
“No, it's fine. Besides, I'm already over here, and you offered to buy me a drink.”  
  
“I did no such—”  
  
I whistled for the bartender, and she made her way over. “I want a Tom Collins, by the way,” I told Louis.  
  
“What can I get you boys?” said the tall, tattoo-covered woman on the other side of the counter. I gave Louis a sweet look, and the other young man just sighed.  
  
Louis ordered himself his choice of beer and my Tom Collins, and the woman went off to make the drinks. Louis's came first, in a tall glass that overflew, and mine a moment later with a pretty pink straw and a lime slice over the rim.  
  
“That drink is nearly thirty, so it better be good,” Louis told me when I sipped my drink.  
  
“Thirty?” I raised my eyebrows as I swallowed. “I forget how expensive this place is. But yes, it is good. Want a sip?”  
  
I held my glass out towards Louis, who just shook his head and had a swig of his beer. I had figured out by now that Louis wasn't much of a drinker. He usually would go out with everyone when they had a night out, but he never drank much. He just a mellow guy, and that was something I would never admit that I liked about him. Sometimes, though, you just needed mellow people around so your life could be slightly less crazy.  
  
I let a few sips of the alcoholic beverage settle in before I spoke again. “So, are we going to talk about your personal problems now?”  
  
Louis sighed and shrugged, looking down. “I guess, though I think you'll be bored.”  
  
“I don't have a doubt that I will be bored,” I agreed, grinning as I took one more sip.  
  
Louis was quiet, then, watching his own index finger trace around the rim of the glass, like it was something he enjoyed doing, for he smiled softly. “I should be the one telling you to explain your problems, you know,” he said after a bit, dropping his hand.  
  
“I beg your pardon?” I said, raising my eyebrows.  
  
Louis grinned at me smugly. “You have something going on in that pretty head of yours, and I can just tell it's busting you up.”  
  
“Aw, you think my head is pretty?”  
  
“Harry—”  
  
“I wish I could the same for yours, but it needs some work.”  
  
Louis sighed quite loudly. “I don't know why I try with you.”  
  
“That's a good question,” I said, though it hadn't been a question, really. “Why do you try with me? You know, you only have to  _pretend_  you're my friend.”  
  
Louis turned his head towards me and gave me a pointed look. “Did you ever think that maybe I really want to be your friend?”  
  
I stared at him for a moment, then looked ahead while I snorted. “Hate to break it to you,” I said, “but I have enough friends.”  
  
“Name one.”  
  
I was surprised at how the childish little challenge rattled me. I became frustrated, and I stared dejectedly down into the glass in front of me, studying the ice that floated in the liquid. This is why I didn't like Louis. He always had to do this, just look into things he had no business in. He thought he was some sort of therapist that could solve all of the world's problems, and I had had just about enough of it.  
  
“I don't see why you would want to be my friend. I'm not nice to you,” I decided to say, rather than replying to Louis's challenge.  
  
“Sure you are.” I could see Louis shrug in my peripheral. “You just don't realize it.”  
  
“Yeah?” I shot a look at Louis, wanting to seem like I was giving Louis a challenge of my own to hide my curiousness. “How so?”  
  
“Harry, I've known you for nearly five years,” Louis stated. “And you still put up with me.”  
  
I was going to argue that I  _had_ to put up with Louis, but I knew exactly what Louis meant by that. We had known each other for almost five years, and the entire time, we had done nothing but act like friends, off and on camera. We played best friends on the show, and because the people loved seeing us as friends, it was best to keep the image up in the real world so people would like us and our show more. But I would admit I wasn't acting sometimes. Sometimes, I did enjoy spending time with Louis. Louis was someone that made having fun inevitable. He irritated me, but I enjoyed it. He wouldn't act like he was listening to you. He would actually listen to you. And I kind of wanted all of that in a friend.  
  
I would just never tell Louis that.  
  
“Anyway,” Louis said the same time  I was realizing we had sidetracked tremendously, “I want to hear about the problem you so obviously have.”  
  
“I don't know what you're talking about.” I sipped my drink. Well, more like I slurped it down.  
  
“Oh, come on. You can tell me.”  
  
“How about you get drunk with me, then maybe I'll tell you,” I suggested, whistling for the bartender again.  
  
“I'm not sure I like that idea.”  
  
“Too bad. We need a round of shots!”  
  
And so a couple of hours passed, though it didn't feel like that to me, and both Louis and I were wasted, for the lack of a better term. We were falling off their seats, and leaning on the people around us to stay up. But we were having fun. Real fun, like we always, secretly, did. We'd made “friends” with the people around us that recognized us from the show, and we were buying rounds for anyone. It was all good fun.  
  
Until things got crazy.  
  
So crazy not even Louis was smart enough to take control of it.  
  
There were so many voices around us, and I was barely focusing on them, until they became more demanding, and the lights seemed to get brighter. I heard the words “Larry” and “dating” and lots of other words, though only a few really got through that I remembered.  
  
“... _kiss Lou_...”  
  
The excitement in the crowd that had formed around them was insane, and it made me excited as well, and with alcohol burning in my throat and the world around him blurring, I found my lips pressed to Louis's.


	2. Shade.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "We have to try are hardest to tolerate each other in public."

I wasn't sure how I'd gotten home. I often didn't, when I'd spent the whole night drinking. It was like some sort of Twilight Zone shit going on, because once I reached that point where the alcohol brought me into cold darkness, I saw nothing else, and when I did open my eyes, I was home. It was odd, but I decided that perhaps I shouldn't test it.

At least I didn't wake up laying in a swamp, or a giant pile of animal shit.

This morning, I was in my bedroom, my favorite room in my flat. It protected me from my worst enemy: The Goddamn Sun. When I moved into my new, snazzy flat about a year and a half ago, I'd come to the bitter realization that having a home that was seventy-percent windows, the fucking sun was something I would have trouble avoiding in the wee hours. Waking up the first real morning I'd slept in my new bedroom, I swore to God and all that was holy that the damned sun was trying to blind me as I was blasted with sunlight the moment I opened my eyes.

After one more day of waking up this way, I had been brought to the conclusion of going out and shopping for window shades for five hours. Trying to find shades that would were long enough for my five-meter tall walls, would retract and tract with a switch of some sort so I wouldn't have to do it himself, and would eliminate any form of sunlight wasn't exactly easy. Then after buying the curtains, I had to wait for them to be installed by people I'd hired since there was no way I could figure that shit out on my own. Plus, I'd probably set my flat on fire, or fall off of the ladder, trying to put the things up on every single fucking window.

I wasn't even sure how much I spent on securing darkness in my home. At least two thousand quid.

But nonetheless, it was so worth it. Every morning I woke up to darkness, not blasting sunlight, and I absolutely loved it, even if it would cause me to be late sometimes. Still pretty worthwhile.

This morning may be one of those mornings, though, when I was late.

I didn't wake up to an alarm going off, which was always a bad sign, even if it meant I'd be saved the headache that would come from my hangover. And when I checked my phone, not only did I see the list of missed calls and texts, I saw that it was well past the time I was supposed to leave for work.

I treated the bad news with a groan and forced myself up, and once I was upright, I moaned as the pain of one of the worst headaches I've ever had kicked in, and fuck did it kick in hard.

Being hung over was not a new experience. I often woke up hungover, as sad as it may sound. But I couldn't recall ever waking up  _this_  hungover. I felt like utter shit. Like diarrhea shit. I was sure that coffee probably wouldn't solve this. I would still try, though.

So, I took a cold shower. Spent extra time shampooing my hair, and washing my face, despite the fact that I was extremely late. People would just need to wait. I went on with my regular routine, doing my usual business in the bathroom, then going downstairs to make coffee, making the decision to just drink black this terrible morning. When I was dressed and fresh, I took off towards the studio, still battling my murderous headache.

It was a rainy day in London, though it wasn't pouring. Just a light drizzle with the sky covered in dark clouds, and I liked it best this way. I enjoyed the way the air smelt, and I could inhale it all day long. And days like this always seemed calmer than normal days in London. London would always be a busy city, but somehow, the clouds and the drops of rain brought a mellow edge to the loud city, which was a blessing today.

I decided I would keep the attitude of the new day strong as I walked into the large studio building, ignoring any chastising and comments I received on my way to the preparation area, where a seat was ready for me, and so was a stylist. With a comb going through my hair, and the feeling of a soft brush painting his cheeks with blush, I let my eyes fall shut in both exhaustion and relaxation.

Sadly, it couldn't last long.

"Your lips sore, Styles?"

I opened one eye and looked over at Niall, the blond Irishman that had been at XIR last night, who was also getting his makeup and hair done by a stylist. He gave me a smug look, tugging his eyebrows up as well as the corner of his mouth.

"Pardon?" is all I said.

"Well, with Louis sucking the color out of them, I thought you'd be in pain." Niall shrugged and looked down at his phone. Obviously, bugging me wasn't completely satisfying.

The mentioning of just Louis brought my blood to boil. Now that it was brought up, I did remember locking lips with someone last night, but a large part of my mind was trying to desperately push the thoughts of that someone being  _Louis_  into the very back of my mind so I would never even think of that nightmare again.

I turned my head forward and scoffed. "Not sure what you're talking about, mate."

Niall gave a dry, laugh. "Sure you don't," he drawled in his accent. "Was it just like kissing a girl? I would assume so, since Lou isn't far from being one."

"If you're so curious, why don't you just find out for yourself?" I suggested, raising an eyebrow and looking over in Niall's direction. The lad just clenched his jaw, from the looks of it, and kept his eyes on his mobile. I had my eyes adverted as well, irritated, and went to what I needed to do desperately—forgetting anything that happened last night.

It was always the same when it came to my drunken escapades. I'd do something idiotic one night while completely sloshed and would wake up the next morning with the memories of the events I wished I had forgotten, and no recollection of the ones I had really enjoyed. Kind of made getting drunk pointless, yet it was one of my favorite pastimes.

It's not like lip-locking with Louis Goddamned Tomlinson was the end of the world. Sure, it was pretty bad, and I would do anything to go back and scream at myself to not kiss that ridiculous fool.

I still wasn't sure why I did it, but I had decided it was best that way.

Filming for the day began and I went along with the scenes as usual, hardly even knowing my lines, as per usual, but still performing well, in my own opinion. I was annoyed to see that I had couple of scenes with none-other than Louis, but that wasn't a huge shock, since I usually had at least one scene with him every episode having him being my "best friend." But I was delighted to see that I had a quite scandalous scene with Lydia Silverton, which ended in myself lacking a shirt and licking my swollen lips.

* * *

"Stop. Oh, dear God, stop."

Taking my gaze off of Louis as we rehearsed our scene, I looked at Darwin, the director, and let my hand drop.

"Okay, what the hell is going on right now? I feel like there is a sickness going around, and you two are suffering terribly from it," Darwin went on as he walked towards us. "I expect more from you, Tomlinson."

"Hey," I complained, dropping the phone in my hand and crossing my arms. "I hope you only said that because I'm doing a better job than him right now."

Darwin gave me an unamused look, then shook his head. "Sure, Harry. Believe what you want."

"I'm sorry," Louis said, always the polite one. "I was distracted. I promise to focus."

Darwin just nodded and returned to his chair while I scoffed. "Distracted, huh? Could just admit you're not as great as you think you are. Everyone pretty much knows it already. We're just waiting on you."

Louis didn't make any attempt to hide his glare, narrowing his eyes at me and giving me a good scowl. "What's wrong, Harry? Wake up on the wrong side of your ego?"

"The right side, actually," I quipped. "I am at my finest."

"I'm sure you are."

"And my hair looks great today, especially for having been hungover this morning."

"Harry-"

"I smell nice, too."

"That's gre-"

"What the  _fuck_ , guys? Are you going to act or are you going to sit on your goddamn arses and bicker like a couple of fucking toddlers?"

 _Ah, Darwin,_ I mused as I picked the phone off of the ground. Darwin tended to have a very colorful vocabulary when he became impatient. I enjoyed it sometimes, when it wasn't directed at me, but other times, it made me flinch and feel like I was about the size of a mouse.

Louis and I quickly resumed the scene and I could tell that Louis was putting more effort in than he had before, his facial expressions the definite highlight of his performance, while I just continued as I had, not understanding what had been wrong with my performance in the first place. After we were all done with our scenes for the day, I found myself stuck in Jack Nelson's office, fiddling with my fingers as I tried to figure out why the hell I was in there.

Jack Nelson had called me in not too long after I'd retreated to my trailer, not providing the reason why we needed to speak, just that I needed to to get my ass up to the office. So there I was, watching Jack pace back in forth while I waited for the lecture or whatever I was there for to begin.

After just a minute, I lost his patience. "Well?" I said, expecting something to start already.

"We're waiting," is all Jack said, and went back to his agitating pacing.

Whatever wewere waiting for was apparently Louis, because just a moment later, the feathered-hair mess of a man walked into the spacey office and took a seat next to me. His brown hair was tousled and the muscle top and blue athletic shorts he wore appeared damp with sweat, as did his skin, glistening with the sunlight that poured into the room.

"Sorry I'm late," Louis said, his breathing calm, but still loud enough to be heard. "I was running during my break, and I didn't get your mess-"

"It's fine, Louis," Jack said, dismissing the explanation as he took his seat behind his desk, the chair sinking down at his weight.

"Can we get on with this meeting? I have a hot date tonight," I spoke up again, my patience still gone.

"With your wine collection?" Louis raised his eyebrows at me, which earned him a glare.

"Bourbon, actually."

"Hmm," Louis scoffed and looked at Jack, who looked anything but amused.

"Harry, if I were you, I would give up alcohol. Now," our boss said in a tone that told me he wasn't joking, not even the slightest.

"If this is an intervention, I might as well leave now," I said anyway. "There are  _real_ alcoholics out there that need help. Focusing on me would be a waste of time and a very expensive collection of whiskey."

"Harry, please shut up for two seconds. You're already giving me a headache."

I just responded with an eye roll, sitting up to show Jack that I was ready to listen to whatever this was about. I loathed meetings like this. I knew that whenever me, Jack, and Louis were in the same room together, we only talked about one thing: Up-holding the image of mine and Louis's friendship. It was absurd, that we actually needed meetings for this. Both of us understood that we needed to act like friends. It wasn't that hard of a concept. Really, it only required that we were seen being nice to each other in public places. We didn't need friendship bracelets or matching tattoos. It was simple, and yet our agents and bosses insisted that we attended a meeting at least once a month to make sure we were doing our job correctly.

"Do you two wanna tell me what happened last night at XIR, or should I look for myself?" Jack asked after a moment, and the question definitely perked my interest.

Louis, having no ability to hide the red that flushed his cheeks, said, "W-what do you mean?"

Jack rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair. "I'm in no mood to dance around this. What the hell happened last night?"

I shrugged and looked down at my fingers. "Louis got extremely drunk and kissed me," I said, deciding just let it out. The faster I talked, the sooner I could leave. "That's it."

I could see Louis's reaction from the corner of my eye, his blue eyes going wide and his mouth gaping open. "That is not really what happened," he spoke quickly. "We were  _both_  extremely drunk. I don't remember it exactly, but I know that this isn't all on me. Harry took part."

I just shrugged again while Jack shook his head and sighed. "You know what? I don't give a bloody fuck who kissed whom. What I do care about is the fact that this kiss between you two is all over the bloody media!"

Before I could respond, Jack held up his wide-screened mobile and showed both of us the picture that appeared on the screen. I hardly remembered the details of my drunken kiss with Louis, just that it happened, but now looking at a picture of the two of us locking lips sloppily, the details surfaced one by one.

The kiss (if you could call it that) had been quick, messy, and-thankfully-closed-mouthed. I didn't even remember really having my lips on top of Louis's. More of on the side of his mouth. I'd probably been much too drunk to direct my mouth in the right direction, but that was a blessing, I guess.

Either way, thinking about the kiss made me feel like I was going hurl.

"And then someone got a video," Jack went on and swiped his finger across the screen to a similar picture, accept with a play icon in the center. He tapped the screen and the video played.

"Oh, that is disgusting," I was surprised to hear Louis say as ourselves from last night pressed their lips together at the chanting of the crowd around them. I definitely caught a "Larry" or two, along with many other excited remarks.

"Quite." Jack set his phone down and flicked his eyes between the two of us. "Look, I don't care about anything that may be going on between you two, but this is unacceptable," he said as I rolled my eyes again. "If it weren't for that fact that people actually enjoy this, we'd have to completely die down your guys' friendship."

"Oh, great." I huffed and leaned back in the leather chair. "So, that means I've gotta keep acting like I actually like this bloke? Fan-fucking-tastic."

"Wait, people aren't angry over this?" Louis said, ignoring what I said. "They actually... like this?"

"Yes," Jack said. "As a matter of fact, they do. Especially the LGBT crowd. We have received numerous phone calls and e-mails from LGBT leaders and spokesmen. There are multiple counselors for support groups that even called, wanting to know if you two could speak at the meetings. I won't even mention the thousands upon thousands of tweets and other social media posts that have been non-stop since the moment that picture was put out there."

I took that all of that in. I should be happy; the world didn't hate me for showing one sign of affection towards the same sex. But I was anything but happy. The  _world_ thought I was gay. Okay, it's not like it was the end of fucking human existence, but this wasn't exactly good. I'd heard plenty of rumors about myself throughout my acting career, but the world couldn't even write this off as a rumor, because there was  _evidence_. Loud and clear evidence that could only mean that I  was gay, and was also gay for Louis Tomlinson.

"Have you got any aspirin?"

Jack shot a look to me, his eyebrows arched like two arrows. "No," he said without looking. I sighed and pressed a hand to my forehead to soothe the pain that was beginning make my head ache more than usual.

"That's a good thing, right?" Louis continued, ignoring me again. "That there's not a lot negative comments?"

"I'm not sure," Jack said. "But I looked at our numbers earlier, and they've doubled. So that is definitely good."

"Huh." Louis leaned back in his seat. "You know something? We've never addressed same-sex issues on the show. All the characters are straight. I mean, most shows in our category at least have one homosexual character."

"That's what I noticed, too." Jack nodded. "But just having viewers know that two cast members are homosexual is really bringing up our numbers."

"Imagine if we were gay off and on the show," Louis mused.

"Hey, don't give him any ideas." I scowled over at Louis, hoping that he would take it as a warning.

"It might be," Jack agreed. "But for now, I think we should just focus on off camera. If appearing to be in a relationship does good for our show, then maybe that's something we should pursue."

I sat up too quickly, but I tried to ignore the throbbing in my temple as I stared wide-eyed at the fat bastard across from me. "No fucking way. No. You can forget it right now. There is no way in  _hell_  I would pretend to be gay, especially for  _him._ "

"Oh, come on, Harry." Jack rolled his eyes. "You're an actor. If this was in the script, you know bloody well that you would be expected to give it your best, and you'd be fired if you refused to."

I knew that was true, but this wasn't a script, and I wasn't playing a character.

"God may smite me for this, but I kind of agree with Harry," Louis piped in again. "I can appear to be his best friend, but to appear like I'm dating him? That's a little far-fetched. I mean, we have to try are hardest to tolerate each other in public. We'd never be able to pull off dating."

"It won't last long," Jack said, like he was trying to convince us. "A few months, at the very most. Besides, the public loves a good breakup."

"I'm not doing it," I said firmly. Even if this whole idea ended in a public breakup, I knew that this would just do too much harm. A public breakup meant that someone would be the bad guy. Rumors would flutter, and it would be nothing but shit-talking about both of us. I didn't want that. And with the relationship in general, I knew there was no way it would work out. It simply couldn't. Maybe if Louis was an attractive woman who didn't get on my nerves. But this was Louis. Louis Fucking Tomlinson, who I couldn't even consider as a real friend.

Jack shook his head and turned in his chair to face the computer screen on the side of the desk. "We don't know if that's what we want to try. We'll have another meeting with Connie and Richard, the lot. We'll discuss this and see how our numbers are doing, then we'll decide what we should do."

"No, this is absolutely ludicrous," I said, dumbfounded that we were actually discussing this, like our love lives were something that we couldn't control themselves. "You can't really consider this, Jack."

"Yeah, this is kind of crazy. You can't really expect us to agree to do this," Louis said.

"It's just a little acting. It's not a big deal, guys."

"All right." I stood up, just about done with this whole meeting. "I'm leaving. Jack, I suggest you seek professional help. Louis, I suggest you seek a ditch you can fall into. Goodbye."

Giving them my best charming look, I turned and walked out, ignoring anything that they would say to me. I was tired, hungover, and pretty pissed off at this point. I didn't care how good it was for ratings and all that bullshit, there was no way in hell I would agree to be in a public, romantic relationship with Louis, and I was sticking by that.  
  
I was also going to stick by having a hot date with my bourbon collection tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy this chapter. Sorry not a lot happens, but let me know what you think! :)


	3. Ice.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I have to say, Styles, watching you fall onto your arse is something I enjoy way too much.”

The following week was something I could only describe as FLTAHF.

Which meant: Fuck Louis Tomlinson and His Face.

I was fully aware that FLTAHF was not technically an adjective, but it sure was one that I used a lot. I'd first came up with the fabulous acronym when I'd been delighted to attend a group ski trip with my fellow cast members and co-workers, thinking I'd have not too bad of a time until I'd been paired to share a room with-guess who-Louis Tomlinson.

This had been back when me and Louis were just beginning our "friendship." We still didn't know each other well enough, and were getting the hang of pretending to be best friends. I didn't like to admit it, but this had been a time when I had actually been okay with spending time with Louis, and getting to know him more, as well as working with him. So the news of having to share a room with Louis at the lodge hadn't been bad news to my ears.

That was until I got Louis to play a simple game with me.

I didn't understand how the teen game Would You Rather could take such a drastic spin that sent us spiraling.

"Do you have to be so crude?" Louis had asked as he choked on his own laughs, holding his beer outstretched from him, as if his cackles would cause it to spill out of the bottle.

"Have you never played this game before?" I turned my body as I said that, kicking my feet up onto the couch and tipping the bottle in my hand back, letting the alcohol pour into my mouth. "Honestly, if you don't have the stomach for Would You Rather, then we should play a different game."

"No, I can stomach it, I just wasn't expecting this game to be so inappropriate," the twenty-year-old across from me said, shaking his head. "Children play this game."

"So do stoners at your local stoner party."

"What kind of stoner parties do you go to?"

"Oh, you know." I waved the bottle, shrugging. "The usual."

Louis didn't say anything else in regard to stoner parties, and just leaned forward on his knees. "What was the question again?"

I took a moment to rewind my thoughts. "Would you rather have to take a mud-bath in animal shit instead of showering or proper bathing for a month, or have to drink nothing but animal piss for two weeks?"

Louis made a gagging noise. "I think I just threw up a little in my mouth," he said distastefully and looked at me. "Where do you even come up with that foul garbage?"

I smirked and had another swig of my beer, working on my third as Louis, notably, was still on his first. "Imagination, baby," I said, tapping the side of my temple.

"Disgusting." Louis shook his head and took a rather long drink of his beer, for him at least, then set the bottle down on the table that separated us. "If you're forcing me to choose... then I have to go with the piss."

The look that I received after reacting to Louis's answer was something I wanted to see again and again. As I set my beer bottle down and quirked my top lip up in disgust towards the other man, Louis's mouth fell open and his eyes went sad and wide.

"What?" he said quickly, actually seeming scared. "You gave me two options and both were equally repulsive! You can't really judge me!"

"The piss? Really?" I shook my head. "You have to taste that. You'd never be able to stomach it."

"Well, I wouldn't be able to stomach sitting in animal shit for a month!"

"Yes, but I never said you had to," I pointed out.

"Yes, you-"

"I said you had to replace proper baths and showers with animal shit baths. You could have just went a month without not taking showers and baths. Then you wouldn't need to replace anything."

"Harry, that is not-"

"You'd be a lot dirtier by bathing in shit than not bathing at all. And you can go longer without good hygiene than you can without water."

Louis's eyes began to narrow. "Oh, you are just the worst at this game," he grumbled. "Every turn you trick me."

I cocked an eyebrow. "How so?"

"You always put some kind of loop-hole in there." I followed the blue eyes roll. "That's not how you're supposed to play the game."

"Are you actually upset about this?" I couldn't help but let out a short laugh as I saw the way Louis's round eyebrows had lowered and his lips were no longer turned up, not even just the slightest. "Oh, come on, Louis. It's just a game. Don't be mad because you clearly suck at it."

"I'm not mad," he said, though his face spoke otherwise. By now, I had realized that Louis loved to speak through his facial expressions. "Really, I'm not mad. Stop thinking that I am, right now."

"Will you just relax, mate?" I leaned back before throwing the last bit of my beer back. "It's just a game," I said again.

"Well, you could play fairly," I could hear Louis grumble, but I decided to ignore it. I was beginning to think that messing with Louis wasn't something that I should do often, even if it was something that seemed to entertain me.

We didn't continue playing Would You Rather after that. Louis was quieter, but was obviously pretending to be perfectly fine. I played ignorance so I didn't have to pay attention to the way Louis was acting, not really caring if he had a problem until he got a phone call.

"Hold on, I need to take this," he said, getting up and walking out of the room with his phone. I just shrugged to myself and drank another beer.

I didn't care much if Louis was upset or if I had made him upset. I was just trying to get to know the lad better so working with him would be easier. I knew it would be less tiresome if I didn't have to  _act_  like I was Louis's friend, but actually was his friend.

When Louis came back, I did begin to care-just a bit. There was this thing about Louis that I'd learned over the years, this time being the first piece of evidence I had to support my realization. Louis would never hide his emotions through his face. He simply didn't know how to, or simply didn't care to. But it became an inconvenience to the people around him. Most people didn't give two shits if someone else looked a little mad, but Louis made it so obvious that something was up with him that it was hard to ignore. Even if you didn't care, he made you care.

"Bad phone call?" I had to ask, like it was an obligation.

"What?" The word came out as nearly a snap, Louis's eyes darting to me once he sat down. "Oh, no. There was nothing wrong with that phone call."

"Really?" I raised my eyebrows, Louis making it too easy to see that he was lying. "Because you've got this scowl on your face, and you kind of just got snippy with me."

Louis's eyes grew for a moment, then his shoulders slumped forward as he leaned back against the plaid cushioned chair he was in, his facial features changing like the leaves on trees through the transition into fall. His fingers went to his forehead and brushed away his feathers of hair as his eyes fell to his lap before going to me again.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have acted like that," he said gently. "I just get kind of moody sometimes."

"Sometimes?" I couldn't help teasing, but I made sure to smile just the slightest at Louis. He just sighed and gave a faint smile back that didn't last long at all. "It's fine, mate. So, what was up with the phone call?"

The question brought back the same scowl and look of distress back to his face. "Could we perhaps not talk about it?" he asked.

"Sure," I said easily since I hadn't cared much in the first place. But when Louis's face stayed the same for twenty minutes-even after he downed a shot that I had nearly forced on him-I needed to bring it back up.

"Okay, really, what's up?" I asked with a sigh that was mostly of annoyance. "That phone call or whatever obviously upset you to the point where you won't just forget about it, so what the hell was wrong with it?"

"Harry," Louis said with a frown, "I thought we were going to drop it."

"Yeah, that's what I thought, too, but I'm getting pretty tired of you just sitting there with that fucking bothered scowl on your face. It's annoying and it's beginning to upset me, which is totally ruining my buzz."

Louis just rolled his eyes. "Well, it's really none of your business, and even if it was, nothing is wrong."

I gave a dry laugh that had my head falling back. "You are such shit, you know that?" I looked over at Louis, and I knew that I was losing my patience with him. "Are you really going to lie and say that nothing is wrong when it's pretty obvious that something is in fact wrong? That's pathetic."

"It's not any of your business," Louis repeated, this time with a sharp edge to his voice.

"Okay, fine," I huffed and got up. "If it's not my business and you're not going to talk about it and you're just going to stay all pissed and broody, then I'm gonna go have a good time somewhere else."

"Fine, drama queen."

I scoffed at that and stormed out without another word. I wound up in the bar down in the lodge, a glass of scotch on the rocks between my hands and a new friend watching me drink and complain.

"Fuck him," I said after telling the bartender my problem with Louis and finishing two strong drinks. "Really, fuck him and his bloody emotions. Honestly, what kind of moron thinks it's all right to just act like a complete ass and not expect someone to ask what the fuck is going on? He was begging for it, not like I gave a fuck. He should have shut his face up."

"Innit," is all the bartender said.

"Just..." I burped and shook my head. "Fuck Louis Tomlinson and his face."

"I'll get you another," said my new friend after the scotch in front of me had disappeared down my throat. When a new scotch was in front of me, I held it up towards the bartender and smiled lazily.

"Cheers."

* * *

That ski trip had definitely been a FLTAHF kind of trip. More FLTAHF times came over the years, but this week was a probably the most worthy of being described as FLTAHF.

I saw Louis every day that week, but that was usually normal, since I saw him every day of filming new seasons, but that was at work. And a week that I saw Louis Tomlinson out of our work environment more than in was a FLTAHF kind of week.

I swear, Jack and the rest of them were trying to trick us into doing this "fake dating" crap since they had sent us out together every day. On Monday, I was told to go to a breakfast place called Toasty Cakes to have a meeting with my agent, but my agent didn't show up, and I guess neither did Louis's since he was sitting at the table a waitress took me to. I hadn't been happy, to say the least, that I had to have breakfast with him.

On Tuesday, we went running together, but that was normal for us, since it had become a weekly thing for us to exercise together. On Wednesday, we  _went to dinner together._  I had been told that it was group dinner amongst some of the cast, but of course when I got to the restaurant, the only one there was Louis, and then there was Jack with his wife a few tables away,  _discretely_  telling us to eat together. It was obviously a scheme to make it look like we were on a date. And in the middle of the week? Only married couples with no time during the rest of the week went out on Wednesday night. Fucking ridiculous.

On Thursday, I knew the pattern, and had a few drinks with Louis at a pub. Friday, we were at the same party as each other, so I took it as an opportunity to socialize with different people, ignoring Louis Fucking Tomlinson as much as possible. Saturday, I thought I was free of him, until we were both called in later in the night to film one stupid scene. And Sunday... don't even get me fucking started on Sunday.

"If this isn't a fucking date, then I don't know what is," I said to Louis as I used his shoulder for balance.

"Mil and James are here, though," Louis said, pushing me off of him and skating away, which only caused me to stumble after him and grab onto him again. "And Niall was here for a while, too. It's just a casual get-together."

"Oh, bullshit," I grumbled, holding onto him tighter than I would have liked as I tried to glide along with him. "This is a set-up and you know it. Ice skating is the most romantic kind of skating."

"Well, if you would get  _off_  of me-" Louis pushed me off of him again, and I scrambled away, yelping, "-it wouldn't look so much like we're on a date."

I held onto the arm of a short woman, who reacted by shoving me away and skating off like a pro. I quickly tried to fall in the direction of the wall of the rink, and I held onto it once I got a hold of the edge, pressing my legs to the wall. Louis slid up beside me and leaned against it.

"Have you never skated before?"

I looked up at him and rolled my eyes. "I've skated before," I said, trying to stand up straight. When I almost fell on my knees, I didn't try again.

"When?" Louis laughed, looking too amused right now. "When you were seven, skating around the hardwood flooring in your socks?"

I just glared at him, knowing I would have flipped him off if I wasn't so scared of letting go of the wall with just one of my hands.

"I could teach you," he said, raising his eyebrows.

"No fucking way." I shook my head, trying to keep my feet stable. "Fuck off, Tomlinson."

"All right."

When I looked up again, he had skated away. I watched him skate to where Mil and James were and my eyes narrowed at him. "Tosser," I muttered and looked around as people stared while they skated by, probably thinking,  _Look at that giant man cower against the wall like a little girl._

"Okay, you can do this," I whispered to myself after studying the way people were skating and I took a few tries before slowly pushing myself off of the wall.

I was fine for a few feet, gliding along the ice as I tried to keep my body as still as possible with my knees bent and my arms out at my sides for balance. Then I began to wobble and my feet began to move away from each other, so I reached out and grabbed what was nearest to me.

Which happened to be a child.

"Ah!" the girl shrieked and tried to get me to let go of her shoulders as she began to wobble as well. "Mummy!"

"Get your hands off my daughter, you bloody wanker!" I was suddenly hit on my upper back with something and I stumbled away from the child, trying to gain balance as I tripped over my own feet. Skaters zoomed by me, and one bumped into me, finally sending me falling onto my back.

With a groan, I looked up and over at the woman and her daughter. "Hey, watch your language! You are with a child! And who the hell takes their purse with them in the rink? Fucking cow." Then I huffed and let my head fall onto the ice, groaning again.

"I have to say, Styles, watching you fall onto your arse is something I enjoy way too much."

I rolled my eyes as I saw Louis standing above me a moment later, looking smug and amused. With both of my hands free this time, I did flip him the bird before closing my eyes, the lights above me starting to give me a headache.

"You sure you don't want me to teach you how to skate?" Louis asked.

"Piss off."

"I could leave you here and let you lay here all night because you and I both know that you won't be able to get up," he said. "Or you could stop acting like a prick and I could help you up."

"Oh, shut up. Just help me up. You don't have to be a smug bastard." I held out my hand and he took it, pulling me up as I held onto him tightly, not wanting to fall over again. "Now get me the hell off this ice. I fucking hate ice. Never again will I do this."

"All right, cry baby." Louis chuckled as he led me towards the other side of the rink. "Relax. All you did was fall on your bum. You'll live."

"And I will live to make sure this ice rink doesn't last," I proclaimed. "This is a rip-off."

Louis rolled his eyes. "Right, it's an outrage that you don't know how to skate and got yourself hurt."

"Damn right."

He helped me onto the carpet and I continued to wobble until I was seated on a bench. "Finally," I muttered as I took off my skates and rubbed my aching feet. I groaned as I sat up, my back already sore from the fall, an ache spreading from my lower back through my spine.

"Need some ice?" Louis asked me, sitting next to me and removing his skates as well.

"No, I just need to take a hot bath and turn on my jets," I said simply. My bathtub could solve all the world's problems, honestly.

"Fine, then let's get you home."

"That's all right," I said, pushing myself up after putting my boots back on. "Since this was obviously a set-up to make it look like you and I are madly in love, I think it's best that you don't help me get home. And I drove myself here, so I can get myself home. But thanks."

"Okay." Louis smirked up at me. "Drive safe. And I suppose I'll be seeing you tomorrow?"

"I wouldn't doubt it."

* * *

I didn't see it as a non-masculine thing to take baths. It's not like a bathed all the time. I was a shower man, but when the days wore on and the first thing I needed was to relax, my bathtub was exactly what I needed. It's not that I enjoyed sitting in my own filth, it just helped relieve any stress, or in tonight's case, pain. It was practically a hot tub, anyway. With the jets going, and the faucet pouring hot water in, I didn't consider it just a bathtub.

I stayed in it for a good hour before I decided to get out, my back feeling much better. I dried my body, then threw on some warm clothes before getting myself a gorgeous bottle of brandy and getting comfortable on my sofa in my living room, and starting a new episode of  _The Walking Dead_.

I didn't even get thirty minutes in before I was interrupted by a knock on my door. I usually would have grumbled at hearing the knock, but after that night last week, it was reaffirmed that only one person would come knocking at my door at this time.

I spent a good minute or two panicking and fretting over how I didn't even have the chance to fix my hair as I called out that I'd be right there. Then I needed a few seconds to stand in front of my door and figure out how I wanted to answer and how I wanted my face to look. Finally, I decided and opened the door with a smirk on my face.

"Come back for-?"

The smirk was knocked right off my face, as well as my lips, it felt like, as a firm hand slapped across my cheek with a stinging linger.

"You, Harry Styles, are the slaggiest slag there has ever been, you bastard!" she practically yelled at me as she invited herself in, storming in like she owned the place before turning towards me with her hands on her hips.

"What the hell did I do now, woman?" I groaned as I nursed my burning cheek.

"What the hell did you do now?" Her eyes were wide and angry. "I'm gone a goddamn week after our night together and the night of the day I leave, you're off kissing your best friend? That's a real low down-low."

I was confused for a good amount of time, though I hadn't been paying much attention, focusing much more on how such a little thing could slap so hard. Then I looked at my ex-girlfriend and realized. "Oh," is all I said.

"Yeah, 'oh.'" It'd been a while since I'd seen Marnie Erickson so upset. It was sad that I still got a tightening in my stomach at seeing her nostrils flare. "Were you planning on telling me that you were into guys now?"

"Marnie, I'm not into guys," I said hastily. "I'm as straight as they get. You should know that."

She just narrowed her eyes, which made her skin crinkle at the corners, and that made my stomach tighten as well. "It's kind of hard to know anything when you see your ex-boyfriend snogging his best mate."

"First off, you know I don't like Louis, and that if I were to snog some guy, Louis would not be my first pick," I said, waving a finger at her. "And second, I'm not gay. We were drunk and I don't even know how it happened. I'm not gay."

Here's another reason that made the whole kissing Louis the worst thing that has ever happened. Marnie thought that I wanted men, and now would have a completely different look at me. And it had nothing to do with having an issue with homosexuality, just security. Not many women were okay with being with men that wanted other men.

"You know what, Harry?" she said and sighed. "I'm really tired. I thought maybe after last week you were going to change. I thought you were going to make it easier for me to trust you. But this? This has to be the last straw."

"Marnie, I didn't do anything wrong!" Frustration rose up inside me as it became clear that I was on the path to losing something, and I needed to turn around, only I couldn't.

"I shouldn't have came here that night." She shook her head and looked away, walking back towards the door. "So it's my fault. Not yours. You're Harry Styles, right? Nothing is ever your fault anyway."

She was gone as fast as she had arrived, and I was left standing by my door, my hand to my cheek as my mind spun as I wondered how everything could have gotten so much worse in the matter of minutes.  
  
"Fuck Louis Tomlinson and his face, that's how," I muttered before returning to my couch and my brandy.


End file.
